Falling
by Indigo Tantarian
Summary: A scientist is self-reliant, but when Carlos needs help, he knows that one person will be there no matter what. And it makes him realize something important. (set early in their relationship; beware unsafe amounts of fluff)


**Falling**

Scientists didn't overindulge, as a rule, thought Carlos. Especially not in perception-altering substances.

He thought this as he sat swaying on a rock in the desert, his fellow scientists laughing loudly a bit off to the side.

…No, he was the one a bit off to the side.

It had been fun at first. It was nice to go out after work, to unwind, to be able to joke about the horrors out there and the endless puzzles spawning in the lab. Now he just felt sick. He had thrown up twice, and he could feel his stomach tying itself in knots. He just wanted to go home and sleep. It was too far to walk, though, and no one would give him a ride. Not that any of them were in any shape to drive at the moment. This future-fermented cactus wine was strong stuff.

Carlos heaved again, three times, before spitting his disappointment out onto the cool sand. Nothing left in his stomach. Nothing left to do, really. He pondered going to sleep right here. It seemed like a better option than remaining upright.

But actually, there WAS one more option timidly pushing its way through the fog in his mind. One option that meant the quickest possible ride home. He only had to ask.

There could be strings attached. There WOULD, he was sure. And for that reason he waited what felt like at least an hour, but was probably no more than seven minutes. Finally he was too tired and miserable to care, and he fumbled with his phone and called Cecil.

"Mm, Carlos?" Cecil sounded half asleep. "What is it?"

"Cecil, I…" Carlos burped and dry heaved and took a moment to catch his breath and try to work through his mortification and nausea. "I need… Cecil I… I'm not, I have to…"

"Are you all right?"

"No," Carlos sighed despondently. "'m sick and tired and I just wanna stop throwing up and go to BED." The last part came out as a whine.

"Where are you?"

"The scrub lands –" Carlos hiccupped. " – and the sand wastes. I don't know."

"What's around you?"

"Sand." Carlos gave a little ragged laugh that sounded more like a sob. "Sand and everybody else havin'… Having the time of their lives. They're good at this. They're good at having fun, Cecil. You should be here, you're fun."

There was a pause, and when Cecil spoke again, his voice echoed slightly. "I'll be right there, Carlos. Don't go anywhere."

"Okay." The other line disconnected and Carlos moaned quietly, rubbing the sweat from his face.

He had dozed off and was almost falling off the rock when he woke to someone shaking his shoulder. Cecil stood there, blurry around the edges and radiating worry.

"You got here," Carlos mumbled.

"I asked Erika to help me find you." Cecil nodded at a glowing shape that hurt Carlos's eyes.

"'M drunk," the scientist announced louder than he meant to.

Cecil smiled crookedly. "I can see that. Want to go home?"

"I just wanna be in my OWN bed and sleep forever and never wake up," Carlos groaned.

"Let's work on the first part," the gentle voice murmured into his ear. A surprisingly strong arm threaded its way around his back and heaved him up, and there was a solid, sturdy form there for him to lean on when he staggered. Erika had vanished, but the two of them managed to hobble back to Cecil's little silver car. Carlos napped through most of the trip, and then let Cecil pull him out, take his house keys, and guide him inside. He fumbled with his heavy work boots, but Cecil was there quickly untying them and pulling them off. He made Carlos drink a glass of water, then dove to grab a trash can when the scientist heaved it up again. Twice more he tried, and finally it stayed down in little sips, with the radio host sitting beside him murmuring soft encouragement and rubbing gentle circles over his belly. His lab coat, torn and dirty, was removed, and Cecil paused. Then he went into the bathroom and came back with a wet wash cloth. He rubbed it all over Carlos's face as the other man sputtered incoherent protests, and continued down his neck, then stopped.

"I think that will have to be good enough for now, don't you?" he whispered, his nose bumping the ridge of Carlos's ear. "Time to get some rest."

Carlos slumped down on the blankets, and Cecil carefully pulled him onto his side, pausing for just a moment to fondle a dark curl and brush it out of the scientist's face. Carlos clumsily caught his hand as he was drawing away.

"Cecil. Thanks." His tongue felt thick and uncooperative, and he was having trouble holding his eyes open. "I… You're… I love you so much, Cecil."

There was a sudden metallic silence, then cool hands brushed over his forehead. "Shh. Go to sleep, you'll be more yourself in the morning."

"No, I – I really do. I have. I'm… You're the greatest guy I ever met."

"Well thank you. And you know I've loved you for a long time." Even half-conscious, Carlos could hear the reservations in the other man's voice.

"I love you, Cecil. You c'n stay if you want." He attempted to hug Cecil as well as he could while lying on his side, and ended up with one arm flopping into the other man's lap.

The arm was gently returned to him, rubbed softly, and his hair was once more brushed from his face. "You wouldn't be very happy in the morning," came the soft voice near his ear.

"I love you, I'm not…" Carlos hiccupped again and curled up a little. "I'm not just drunk, I love you."

"Tell me that tomorrow." One more feathery touch on his face. "Goodnight, Carlos."

"I'll tell you all the time," Carlos mumbled, already asleep.

It was almost noon before Carlos woke up again, his mouth and eyes feeling horribly sticky. Everything was too loud and bright, and he stumbled to make himself some coffee, flinching at every noise and every time he bumped into something.

He didn't have long to nurse himself back to feeling human though, because as he took his first sip there was a sudden rumbling of the air. Like an… air-quake. Carlos inhaled the rest of his coffee, whimpered a little at his burned tongue, and raced down to his lab.

The other scientists lived nearby, but it took them a while to arrive. Not all of them showed up, and they all looked worse for wear. Carlos pushed through the pain and exhaustion – and hunger after a while; he hadn't eaten since early last night – because SOMEONE had to, and the others weren't working up to standards, and they had to get data on this right now, no matter what their condition.

By the time evening rolled around, the air-quakes were still going strong, but only intermittently. Most of the rest of the lab team had gotten their act together, but Carlos had to send a couple of them home who couldn't focus. He'd snapped at them more than he felt was strictly necessary, but damn it, Carlos was suffering too, and if they couldn't do their jobs they were just getting in the way.

He'd texted Cecil, giving him the gist of the situation, and the radio host had dutifully passed the message on to his listeners.

_ 'Feeling better today?'_

Carlos ignored that because there was just too much to do.

It was 11:00 before the sound wave generator managed to cancel out the air quakes. The whole team breathed a sigh of relief. They finished up the data report that Carlos INSISTED they needed to do that night, and fled the lab. Carlos climbed the stairs to his apartment stiffly, rubbing at his back and plodding inside. He popped a TV dinner into the microwave, but it pried the door open again and escaped. Carlos didn't have the energy to chase after it, so he just poured himself a bowl of cereal and sank into a chair. As he munched, he took out his phone. 11:54. The message from Cecil was still there.

Carlos looked over through his bedroom door and saw his boots set carefully at the foot of his bed, the stained lab coat in his laundry basket. The cup was upside down in the drying rack by the sink.

Warmth seeped through the exhausted ache in Carlos's chest.

Cecil.

Carlos was a little foggy about the events of the night before, but he knew he had been in sad shape, and Cecil had appeared and taken him home. Taken care of him. It was a soft feeling, and the sensation of cool fingers across his face suddenly struck him with a pang. Strong arms. A cleaned face. Murmured words.

The scientist began typing a text, then paused and deleted it. He sat staring at the phone, moving his lips soundlessly for a minute. Then suddenly he called the number, slamming the phone to his right ear.

It only rang once.

"Carlos, you stopped the air quakes!" Cecil gushed, tired but still not lacking in enthusiasm. "You're just brilliant. I knew you would find a way."

"Cecil, I am… calling for personal reasons." The excitement fled, leaving nerves. "I… mentioned I would speak to you…"

"You sound tired… and you were up late last night. Are you okay, by the way? I didn't want to leave, but… well, I did all I could, and I hope you're feeling better."

"I – yes, I am. But I felt I should clear something up."

"Oh?"

"Cecil… Cecil, I said… I… As I said… I meant it. I do. I l… I love you." His voice dropped, and then he stopped. There was dead silence from the other end. Carlos buried his face in one hand and squeezed his eyes shut. Of all the stupid ways to go about that…

"You… Carlos, you don't have to…"

"I do. I want to, and I mean it."

"Carlos?"

"Yes! Uh… yes?"

"That's… that's the most perfect thing I've ever heard, Carlos. And I love you too."

Carlos sighed out relief and nerves, and the flood of sheer joy he suddenly couldn't hold all in his own heart.

"Cecil, I – do you want to do something some time?" he blurted out.

"Of course, I'd love to!" Cecil replied eagerly before he could berate himself. "Any time! Just give me a call. Or a text. Or you can stop by. Or telepathy, if you've improved enough."

"I'd like that too." Carlos gave a tired laugh.

"You should go to bed." Cecil's voice was small and fond.

"I'm about to. I just had to talk to you. And… thanks for last night. It was… nice of you. You're a really great guy, Cecil."

"It's the least I can do, and I don't mind a bit. So I'll talk to you again… soon?"

"Soon."

"Goodnight, then, Carlos." It wasn't his normal radio 'GoodNIGHT.' It was soft and low and a little shy. "I love you."

"Goodnight, Cecil. I love you too."


End file.
